


Anything Ghost

by Oil_Painting_All_In_Black



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Allison Hargreeves is not great in this, Alternate Universe - Cell Phones & Internet, Anal Fingering, Anal Fisting, Anal Gaping, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Blow Jobs, Bottom Klaus Hargreeves, But like I said no actual incest, Deepthroating, Dirty Talk, Double Penetration, Drug Use, Drugged Sex, Drugs, Dubious Consent, Extremely Dubious Consent, Fisting, Forced Prostitution, Gang Rape, Gangbang, Good Sibling Diego Hargreeves, Humiliation, Hurt Klaus Hargreeves, Implied/Referenced Incest, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, It Makes Sense in Context, Kink Meme, Klaus Hargreeves Needs Help, Klaus Hargreeves Whump, Klaus Hargreeves-centric, M/M, Multi, No Incest, No Safeword, No actual underage content, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Non-Consensual Somnophilia, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Object Insertion, Objectification, Porn, Pre-Series, Prostitution, Protective Diego Hargreeves, Pseudo-Incest, Rape/Non-con Elements, Recreational Drug Use, Sex Tapes, Slut Shaming, Somnophilia, There is no actual incest, Unsafe Sex, Verbal Humiliation, Victim Blaming, Voyeurism, double fisting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-20
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:13:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23748916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oil_Painting_All_In_Black/pseuds/Oil_Painting_All_In_Black
Summary: This is a fill for the umbrellakink meme prompt you can findhere."Klaus spends most of his late teens and early twenties going to parties, getting high, and getting passed around from men to men, who revel in the fact that they're banging the slutty, twinky one from the Umbrella Academy.Sooner or later an internet page (yes, internet exists for this prompt) appears with hundreds of explicit pictures and videos of Klaus being fucked by so many different men.Klaus has no idea this is happening, he's too out of it, but maybe the other members of the academy find out and they slutshame him."
Relationships: Klaus Hargreeves/Original Character(s), Klaus Hargreeves/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 16
Kudos: 148





	Anything Ghost

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so this fill isn't exactly what was requested in the prompt. The original prompt also had "Bonus if Diego regularly whacks off to it." However, I felt that even the most mildly dub-con of dubiously consensual drugged sex was too dub-con for me to feel comfortable having Diego get off on it. I can write a bunch of strange men taking advantage of Klaus in various horrible ways, but apparently I draw the line at having Diego think it's hot. 
> 
> Everything else is pretty much what was asked for, although I may have been a bit carried away and written way too much (almost 10k????) hardcore kinky shit. Alas, when a prompt speaks to me, it speaks to me, and I can't control what it says.
> 
> A slight note: I like Allison, and I think she'd probably react a lot more like Diego does in this if this were canon, but it's not canon, it's kink. So please forgive Allison her behavior, she's really not in control here. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

There's a show Ricky's old girlfriend used to watch all the time, and in one episode all the little characters are arguing about what things you’ve done that show you’re really from the City. It's dumb shit like crying on the subway and seeing Maury Povitch out in public. Which, sure, Ricky's seen Maury on the street corner before, but most of that shit is for normies. If you're anyone like Ricky, who's been around the beat a time or two and knows his way through the bowels of a handful of the most underground sex clubs (the kind that don't ban the consumption of alcohol and don't spend too much time checking whether the sub actually knows their safeword), there's some realer things that prove you're really from the City a fucking lot more than killing a cockroach bare-handed.

Things like watching a strung-out junkie foam at the mouth while she overdoses from a laced batch, things like drinking moonshine out of a crusty toilet bowl because you're too broke or too wasted to make your way to the corner store for a cheap handle, things like waking up in the middle of the night because a rat is crawling across your face.

And if you run in the kinds of underground scenes Ricky runs in, one thing you'll definitely do, if you're really from the City, is fuck the Séance.

"Check it out, he's back," said Jim loudly over the din of the party, gesturing across the crowded room to where the Séance had just walked in. The slut's eyes were smudged with kohl and he was wearing a slinky mesh top with an equally slinky pair of metallic shorts.

"Motherfucker, you'd think he'd have some sense of self-preservation by now," snorted Garreth. "He leaves every one of these parties with a limp."

Ricky was eyeing the boy through the throng of writhing, sweaty bodies. He looked strung-out and hungry, and he weaved through the dancing people like he had a destination in mind, though all he did was find a space on the floor big enough for him to raise his arms above his head and sway to the beat. His eyes were heavy lidded, but Ricky could see them darting around beneath his mascara-clumped, fluttering lashes.

"Did you hear about the website?" Jim said, this time lowly, conspiratorial, leaning in towards his buddies.

"What website?"

"It's dark. Like, y’know, _dark_. You can't find it unless someone gives you a link. It's pretty great though."

"What's it for?"

Jimmy grinned and dug around in the pocket of his black jeans until he pulled out his phone, a burner with a cracked screen, and opened a tab. The website layout was poor, red font barely legible over a black background. At the top in what seemed to pass for some kind of decent graphic design was a logo that read “Anything Ghost”. It was a passable pun, Ricky thought. Beneath the logo was the website summary, which said “This is a forum to share pics and videos of fucking Umbrella Academy's ~*~The Séance~*~. Anything welcome, from tame play to hardcore!” and beneath that, an italicized disclaimer that read _“This page is intended only for hosting videos and photographs taken without the subject's knowledge. Any video or photograph in which the Séance appears to be aware that he is being filmed AND sober enough to remember it will be immediately removed.”_

Garreth let out a whistle, reaching to take Jim's phone and scrolling down to see a handful of threads with various titles and tens of comments. He clicked into one of the threads, titled “Ghostly facials 👻”, and he and Ricky were gifted with a few pictures - all taken at apparently different times and locations - of what appeared to be an unconscious, unaware or otherwise out of his mind Séance with jizz sprayed across his face.

"The fuck?" muttered Ricky, and Jim laughed.

"It's new," he told the two of them, snickering as he backed them out of the facial thread and showed them another called, simply, “Sucking dick”. "I think it just got made a couple weeks ago, and there's already, like, four threads, almost fifteen posts and dozens of comments. I think it's gonna get pretty big. Everyone fucks the Séance."

"Dude, can you send me the link to that? I think I've still got that video I took of me throat-fucking him from the party last year." Ricky wasn't really listening to Garreth, his eyes lasered in again on the dance floor where the Séance was now swaying in the arms of a tall man with greasy hair, who's hands were grabbing at the young man's flat stomach and dipping beneath the waistband of his little shorts.

"What about you, Rick, you want in?" asked Jimmy, and Ricky just nodded.

Jim was right, the site did get big. Over the next couple months, the number of threads doubled and the number of comments almost quintupled. As word got around, people were uploading images and short videos they'd taken over the last few years, some from as early as when the kid had entered the scene, back when everyone pretended they didn’t know who he was because the countdown until the UA kids became legal still had numbers ticking down.

Most of it was pretty tame, cumshots and blowjobs and a small handful of creampies, the kinds of videos guys take when they feel like they have to be sneaky and they're just looking for a quick one for their spank bank, a souvenir of the time they fucked an ex-celebrity. Not creative.

But of course, the website changed all of that.

As the traffic to the website increased, so did the hunger for content other than facials and BJs. "Everyone's so shy about showing their cock, I wanna see his pretty little hole speared open" read a comment on one of the creampie photos. A couple different replies under that comment all read some permutation of "Same", until two days later "Your welcome ;)" and a link to a new thread called “Dicked down” where someone had posted an 8-second clip of a sizeable cock fucking into the Séance's pliant ass.

Ricky watched that clip every night for a week on repeat, always coming at the end when the camera swung up to show where the Séance's head was bent back with a fist in his dark hair, Adam's apple bobbing as he sputtered, struggling to breathe with his neck at that awkward angle.

From there, it spiraled into something uncontrollable. There were dozens of threads now, carefully curated and tagged with all possible kinks. One year into the site's existence, a new rating feature appeared. Of course, the site was 100% anonymous, but that didn't stop the thrill anyone got from seeing their post rising through a thread's rankings. Everyone wanted their photo or video to be - depending on which thread they were posting in - the hottest, or the grossest, or the weirdest, or the most extreme. A year after that came the introduction of weekly competitions: who can get a video of the Séance saying this thing, or a photo of him doing that thing? And then visitors would vote on which video or photo was the best and the winner got to be entered into the “1st Place Hall-of-Famers” thread for posterity.

"Can you believe it?" Jimmy exclaimed at a party once as he stood next to Ricky and pointed at the string of numbers down the side of the site's homepage. Garreth was snorting coke off the back of some waify crackhead who was kneeling on the floor with tears in her eyes as she begged for a sniff. "Two and half years this site has existed. We're at forty-eight different threads, over a twelve-hundred unique posts, over twenty-four- _thousand_ comments, and I got us in on ground zero!"

Ricky nodded along, bored of Jimmy boasting about doing literally nothing more than recommending a porn site to his two gang buddies. Although, to be fair to Jim, it was the best porn site Ricky had ever visited.

Jimmy, Garreth and Ricky all had different taste. Jimmy was probably the tamest of the three; he loved the deepthroat thread and had contributed an impressive handful to it himself. Something about the Séance's confused face, streaked with mascara and throat bulging around an ugly cock, really did it for him. Ricky could see the appeal - the couple times he's fucked the Séance's throat had been pretty gratifying, especially afterwards when the man asked for his pills or his cash with a raspy voice that made him sound thoroughly used. Garreth was a little more sadistic; he liked the S/m thread, which had less content than most of the other ones because despite the nature of the seedy underbelly of the city, most of those who frequented Anything Ghost actually didn't get off to blood or blunt force trauma.

Ricky had his own taste, more extreme than Jimmy's but less brutal, he thought, than Garreth's. His favorite thread was one called “Will it fit?” and was dedicated to photographs of the Séance stretched obscenely by large objects. As with the other threads, there were rules and requirements to be able to post your picture or video. The title had to include the name and diameter of the object that was used, and any sign of severe bruising meant it would be immediately taken down or reposted to the S/m thread. There was a minimum girth requirement as well; anything less than 2.5 inches in diameter wasn't allowed. There were other threads for that, like the tamer “Toys” thread or the occasionally equally intense threads titled “Using the Séance as your trash can” and “Bizarre object insertions”.

You were also welcome to cross-post your content to any other thread so long as it fit that thread's requirements as well. Once, the weekly contest was to take a film that was able to be cross-posted to as many threads as possible with a video length maximum of five minutes and an honor code requirement that the video be "thematically consistent" (that is, the content had to be one singular scene that could fulfill many thread requirements at once, rather than a round-robin of jumping between activities). The winner that week was a video of the Séance tied up on a coffee table, shoulders pressed against the wood and his body bent in half with his ankles tied next to his ears so his ass was in the air. Fully clothed except the seat of his pants split, he was speared through by a Pringles can, barely more than an inch of the can showing outside of his trembling and sweat-damp body. People laughed and talked around him, and reached down deep into his body to pull out chips. On the other side of the table, a string of men fucked his mouth and sprayed their jizz across his face until it was slimy and streaked with cloudy semen. When the can was empty, the partygoers used the still-open receptacle to tap out their cigarettes and toss their used needles. It was cross-posted to fourteen different threads: the bondage thread, the fisting thread, the facial and bukkake threads, the deepthroat and BJ threads, the “Will it fit?” and “Using the Séance as your trash can” and “Bizarre object insertion” threads, the “Clothed sex” thread, the gangbang thread, the forniphilia thread, the “More than 8in. deep” thread, and it won by wriggling its way into the “Eating out the Séance” thread thanks to popular demand by voters and lenience on the part of the mods.

Ricky had watched that video probably 50 times, eyes raking across the screen from one end where the Pringles can seemed to be pressing just a little bit further into the Séance’s body every time a drunk partier rammed their clumsy hand in to grab a chip, all the way to the other where the kid was gasping for breath every time a dick left his mouth long enough for him to inhale. The video ended with the Séance still tied up, still being used as a trashcan on one end and cumbucket on the other, but Ricky liked to imagine what it felt like for the man once the party was over and the people were leaving. How long did it take for someone to untie him – for his cramping, tense body to unfold from its position? Did someone grant him the decency of tugging out that long, unyielding can before untying him, or did they leave him to take care of the trash himself? Did he lower his legs slowly, wincing and whimpering, or did they fall instantly with gravity, feet slamming into the tabletop and the pressure of that can deep inside making him cry out from the discomfort? How many cigarette butts, how many needles did he have inside of him by then? Did they tumble out the end of the can, did any of them prick him through his tight pants? Did he have a change of clothes, or did he stumble back to whatever cardboard box he was living in that night with his gaping hole bared to the world?

Ricky had once even shown that video to the Séance while the guy was high as a kite. Ricky had been fucking him from behind as he was bent over a pool table propped up only by his elbows, pupils blown so big Ricky hadn't been able to see his irises in the dark. Ricky had forced his phone into the Séance's field of vision and played the video, had whispered filthy things into the young man's ears while he rutted into him from behind.

"Look at that," he'd murmured into the Séance's ear, breath tickling the chilled flesh of the man's neck. "Do you even remember that? Do you even remember that greasy chips can rammed deep into your guts? Do you remember them laughing at you? Look at how stupid you look." Ricky had grunted, forcing himself deeper into the Séance’s slippery channel, feeling lube and probably at least one other guy’s semen squishing out of the kid’s loose hole with every thrust. “Look at how disgusting you are. Covered in the jizz of, what, eight other men? I bet you can still taste it, can’t you?”

Ricky wasn’t someone who believed that sex made you unclean. A person could get fucked every which way by ten, fifty, five-hundred different people, and that didn’t make them dirty or used any more than Joe Schmoe who only does missionary once every two weeks with his darling wife. But god, didn’t Ricky _love_ to tell the Séance he was dirty. Didn’t he love to imagine the Séance _feeling_ dirty, feeling disgusting and tarnished and unsalvageable. Didn’t his hips stutter and his eyes roll back at the thought of the Séance thinking himself less than garbage.

“What a disgusting slut.”

And the Séance had tittered until he was laughing wildly, voice high and constricted, stuttering at every one of Ricky's thrusts. The Séance had laughed like that, unable to control himself, until tears were streaming down his face. Ricky had then stuffed his fingers into the man’s mouth, stuffed them in until his fingertips were pressing against the young man's molars and could feel every huff of breath as the Séance cried. And when it was over, Ricky had given the kid a baggy of five pills and gently fed him a bonus one with gentle fingers, and allowed the Séance to nuzzle against his warm, open palm for a few moments as the pill melted on his tongue with a hazy smile gracing the kid’s features and his cheeks still damp.

Ricky wasn’t someone who felt the desire to post on the website. He liked looking at what others were keen to share, enjoyed seeing the Séance strung out and used in all manner of ways, but when he used the Séance himself he felt no need to share that with anyone.

He didn’t participate in orgies – in fact, he tended to leave parties if they appeared to be devolving into one – and while he did enjoy observing the occasional gangbang, he liked to do it from afar. When it was him the Séance was fucking for money or oxy, him making the Séance gasp or groan or laugh or sob, he liked the idea of those noises - those expressions and bodily contortions - being ephemeral. Temporary. Just for him. He liked the reminder that life was impermanent; he wanted to stay in the present, watching the Séance’s muscles move beneath heated skin with his own eyes rather than through a camera screen.

He also didn’t ever want any photos or videos of him fucking the Séance anywhere on his device; as a cop, he knew better than that.

So, Anything Ghost remained the secret pleasure of the City’s underground scene for three glorious years, until some slimy, tweaky asshole slipped it to the paparazzi and from there, well… it was just a couple months after the Rumor’s first blockbuster hit the theaters and she was still doing the interview circuit in prep for awards’ season, and so it was quite sensational. On everyone’s radar, on everyone’s lips. _Did you read that article? Dude, have you been able to download any of those pics after the site went down? Do you have the one where the Séance did that thing where... yeah, that one, I gotta get my hands on it, man, I'm so pissed I never saved it. Hey, did you see what Allison Hargreeves said in the interview?_

And oh, that Allison Hargreeves interview, that was a gem! It was Jimmy who sent him the link to it, accompanied by a crying laughing emoji. Ricky was lounging on his couch at the time, clicked on the link, and two minutes into it he laughed and set aside his beer to unbutton his jeans with one hand, settling down into the backrest with his phone in one hand and his dick in the other. With a smile crooked on his face, he leisurely stroked his soft dick into semi-hardness as he watched the Rumor’s bimbo face pale with shock as the interviewer played for her a censored clip. The clip was of the Séance, pupils blown and shimmery purple eyeshadow smudged across his eyelids, arching his back as a man ground into the Séance’s leather-clad ass. Ricky recognized the man as one of his favorite dealers; not by his face, which was blurred and unrecognizable, but by the heavy ring that glinted dully on the hand that was squeezing and caressing the Séance’s hip, finger dipping slightly beneath the hem of his pants. The dealer spun the Séance around, and the dark-haired man dizzily obeyed, stumbling, before falling clumsily to his knees and beginning to unbutton the older man’s pants while his tongue lolled out of his mouth in a way that Ricky thought was probably intended to be sexy. And, well, it was sexy, not so much the action itself but the fact that the Séance was clearly so coked out of his mind that he couldn’t control his own facial muscles. _That_ was sexy. You know, if you were into that sort of thing.

_“So Allison, how does it feel to know that videos and images like these have been circulating online for the last few years?”_

In the interview, the Rumor gaped, opening and closing her mouth several times, unable to speak. Eventually, she caught her breath enough to whisper, _“What is this?”_

_“You haven’t heard? An underground internet site was uncovered containing a portfolio of pornographic images and videos starring your adopted brother, Number Four Hargreeves, otherwise known as Umbrella Academy’s The Séance. While the website has since been taken down, much of the content is still circulating.”_

_“Oh.”_ The Rumor’s face was still pale as her eyes went from being transfixed in something akin to horror on the screen where the video had been paused, to averting her gaze and looking anywhere else.

The interviewer seemed to wait expectantly for a few moments, but when the Rumor said nothing else, she continued to press on. Ricky chuckled as he imagined picture-perfect Number Three’s disgust, imagined the revulsion she must have felt to learn that her brother had sunk so very low.

 _“How does it feel, seeing your brother in this position?”_ Still, the Rumor was silent. _“How do you feel his behavior reflects on you? Have you ever been to a party like this with him, Allison?”_

And this, this was where the Rumor found her voice again.

 _“My_ adopted _brother,”_ she started, and Ricky could have giggled at that inflection on ‘adopted’, at how she was trying to distance herself from the sweet Séance as much as she could, _“Has always been a bit… deviant.”_ Was she mocking the Séance’s penchant for makeup and women’s clothes? Ricky wondered if the Séance had ever stolen the Rumor’s panties to wear when they were teenagers. He liked that thought. _“He used to come home drunk as a teenager from whatever parties he’d go to. I never went with him, I always tried to keep him from going…”_

_“Why couldn’t you? Couldn’t you have simply… Rumored him into staying home and out of trouble, if you don’t mind my asking?”_

The Rumor seemed caught off her guard and stared, mouth parted, before swallowing. _“I’ve never used my powers on anyone who isn’t a Bad Guy,”_ she said, _“And I never will.”_ The public might be keen to believe anything from the mouth of a beautiful women, but Ricky knew a load of bullshit when he heard it, and he snorted. _“I have always wanted to present the best version of myself possible, in both my public and my private life. If my brother chooses not to display the same… respectability, that is no one’s fault but his own.”_

_“Allison, what would you say to your brother, if he could hear you right now?”_

The Rumor, wide-eyed and frantic for a suitable answer, said _“I’d tell him… that self-respect is the enemy of shame.”_

_“Do you think your brother feels ashamed?”_

_“He should.”_

Ricky groaned and leaned his head back, tightening his hand on his now fully erect shaft. He quickly pulled over his personal laptop and opened it, opening the folder that contained all of his favorite content from the now-extinct Anything Ghost, and he sorted through it until he could find one of his favorite videos.

The video itself started in the middle of the action, the Séance naked from the waist down with four fingers scissoring in his heavily-lubed ass. But Ricky had been present that night, and he knew how it all began. He closed his eyes momentarily, imagining he was there again in the dimly-lit warehouse, the music beating in the background as the crowd – suppliers and dealers and traffickers and their friends and customers – talked and drank and fucked.

He had been doing some business that evening, networking, and was exchanging pleasantries over lines of coke. On a large leather sofa in the dimly-lit center of the room, the Séance, who was being kept by Big Jack at the time, was dead to the world. The Séance had spent the night servicing Jack’s various guests – smiling and likely unwillingly sober for much of it – until the party had wound down and Jack had praised and rewarded his “good girl” with a hit of his truly exceptional fentanyl. After that, the Séance had fallen leisurely back onto the sofa with a wide grin and shortly fallen unconscious.

As guests and those they’d brought with them trickled out of the venue, eventually they were left with only a handful of the most powerful men - and a few of their women - and the Séance, draped across the luxurious black leather sofa, legs open, lube glistening in the cleft of his ass.

“This has been an excellent night,” a dealer named Daniel said, “But I wonder if we could make it a bit more... memorable?”

“What do you have in mind?”

Daniel jerked his chin in the direction of the oblivious Séance. “I’ve been known to frequent a certain website, and I must admit, there’s an itch I have that none of the content has yet been able to scratch…”

“I know it’s late, Jack, but is it alright if we use your boy?” asked Ron, and Jack stroked thoughtfully at his chin.

“I don’t want him bloody, not while he’s under my care. My clients don’t like that. What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking, I’ve never seen anyone try to put more than one fist inside him, and I’d like to beat that record.”

A beat of silence as Jack mulled it over. After a few moments of chewing on the inside of his cheek, Jack relented.

“I don’t want his insides on his outsides tonight, boys.”

Daniel, eagerness alighting on his scarred and bearded face, rubbed his palms together and stepped towards the unconscious young man. “Don’t worry, Jack, there’s no need for that. You got a towel? And a tub of Crisco?”

The men circled the Séance like a pack of jackals, curiosity and fervor in their eyes. “Flip him over,” Daniel said. “Onto the towel. Someone put some pillows under his hips.”

Ricky stayed back to watch at a distance as one of the men, whose name he failed to recollect, fumbled to start recording. Daniel dipped his fingers into the large tub of Crisco that one of his men apparently kept on hand for him, and when three fingers sank easily into the Séance’s body, he proceeded to four. Interested in watching the events play out from a distance, Ricky caught the eye of one of Jack’s women and beaconed her over, unbuttoning his pants himself. He handed her a little packet of lube from his pocket and allowed her to start coaxing him into hardness with her hands, but all the while his eyes were trained on where Daniel was skillfully twisting his wrist, sinking all four of his fingers into the Séance’s body to the knuckles. The Séance’s arms were still and slack, one bent up with his wrist by his face – someone had graciously ensured the Séance’s head was turned sideways so he didn’t struggle to breathe into the leather of the sofa – and the other outstretched with his hand next to his hip, palm upturned. His index finger twitched with every particularly aggressive twist of Daniel’s hand, but he didn’t react when Daniel pulled his hand back out, added some more Crisco to his fingers, and slipped back inside with his thumb tucked into his palm.

“He took that so well,” said one of the men lowly, almost admiringly. “So quickly, too. You barely even prepped him.”

“He’s been taking cock all night.” Daniel sunk his hand in, deeper, until the Séance’s hole closed around his wrist, and then gently pushed in another inch. There was a tensing of the muscles in Daniel’s arm, and Ricky could tell that he had closed his hand into a fist. “And the way he is now, like this –” he was talking about how the Séance was unconscious, unable to move or react or so much as wiggle his pinky finger “– there’s no resistance.” Daniel’s other hand tenderly stroked the Séance’s flank, running his fingers along the young man’s white thigh and thumbing at his sharp hipbone. Then, he closed his hand firmly around the Séance’s hip and with the other, the one buried in the Séance’s body, began to pump his fist, thrusting it in several more inches before pulling out until the flesh around the Séance’s rim bulged out, not quite letting the fist escape. “He can’t do anything but take it.”

Ricky, pulling himself out of the memory and focusing again on the video playing in front of him, allowed his eyelids to drift slightly closed as he watched Daniel’s fist continuing to pump in and out of the Séance’s body onscreen. He imagine that instead, that was his hand; imagined the slick, silky walls of the Séance’s channel clinging to his knuckles and feeling the ring of muscle surrounding the Séance’s hole contracting weakly around his wrist. On his sofa, watching the video, Ricky pumped his hand up and down his erect shaft, thumbing over the head where a bead of precum was welling up through his slit. In the video, in Ricky’s fantasy, Daniel’s fist – Ricky’s fist – finally pulled out of the Séance’s body, and before the man’s hole could even start to close, he hooked three fingers of both hands around the Séance’s weakly tightening rim and pulled out in opposite directions, forcing the young man’s hole to gape hugely and baring his red inner walls to the men hungrily gathered around him.

“Look at that,” hissed Jack as he leaned over Ricky’s (Daniel’s) shoulder. He reached his hand out and pressed two fingers into the Séance’s hole between where Ricky’s hands were holding it open, dragging them along the supple walls. “She’s so open for you. So loose. Fucking slut.” Fucking _Jack_ and his obsession with feminizing the Séance. Ricky never did understand that particular kink. “How much more prepping does she need before you can put two in her?”

“At this point, with how loose he is and how he’s got no resistance, I think he’s pretty much ready for it. I mean, we could work up with a few more fingers, but…” Ricky (Daniel) bit his lip and chuckled, pulling his fingers out of the Séance and giving his ass a firm slap, reddening the cheek and making the Séance’s whole hand twitch in a way even tugging a closed fist out of his ass hadn’t. Or maybe he was just getting closer to waking up. “I really do like having them be at least a little tight.”

Jack moaned low in his throat as he stared at the Séance’s ass, at the Séance’s hole which was no longer being held open by Ricky’s fingers but still wouldn’t close completely. “Just do it, then. Make her take it. I wanna see her bulging with two motherfucking fists in her ass.”

Ricky (Daniel) was more than happy to oblige. He reached down to the floor where he’d set aside the Crisco tub. As the others watched eagerly, hungrily, he coated both hands with more Crisco, liberally applying it up several inches past his wrists. Then with his right hand, he returned to the Séance, folding his fingers into a cone and slipping them in past the swollen rim. As he pressed forward past his knuckles, he closed his other hand around his wrist. He kept pressing forward.

The Séance actually let out a cute little noise when Ricky (Daniel) was finally, entirely, inside him, feeling real and true tightness for the first time as the young man’s hole contracted around his forearms. Ricky let out a hiss, feeling his cock twitch at the sight. He was rock-hard, and the Séance was split open on two forearms. He couldn't even believe the young man's skinny, bony hipbones could fit all of that inside of him.

One of the other men reached out and traced the outline of the Séance’s hole, now blotching white with the strain. “You think he’s ever taken two fists at once before? Must have, right? To be taking them like this, so easily?”

Ricky (Daniel) began to slowly, cautiously, fuck both fists in and out of the Séance’s channel. Ricky only withdrew far enough for the Séance’s hole to bulge outward around the second fist before pressing back in, feeling the Séance’s limp body shaking back and forth with his thrusts, pushing more of those cute little noises out of his chest.

“I don’t think so,” responded Jack, an awestruck smile lightening his face as he watched the Séance rocking on two forearms. “I don’t know any pimps who let their clients do more ‘n one, and I know when she’s not being managed she never does fisting at all.”

Ricky groaned, feeling like he could come right there, no one touching his cock and both fists inside of the Séance without the boy even knowing anyone was in him at all. He’d wake up, foggy and confused, overwhelmed and overstuffed, barely able to do more than lift up his head and look around to try to see what was happening to him, and with _two fists_ pumping inside of him. In his fantasy, Allison Hargreeves was suddenly there in the room with them. She was wearing the outfit she wore in the interview Ricky had just watched, staring at the scene with unmasked revulsion, her nose wrinkling at the sight of her brother stretched so wide around a virtual stranger’s forearms.

“Nnnnnhh,” groaned the Séance, and Ricky felt the man’s thigh twitch. Ricky stilled, holding his arms steady with the Séance’s rim suddenly clenching around his wrists. The hand that was resting on the sofa next to the Séance’s hip weakly closed before falling open again. Ricky looked up and saw his eyelashes fluttering, his lips pressing into a grimace.

“She’s waking up," Jack murmured. Then, louder, "Y’like what you’re feeling, Klaus? Huh, bitch? Can you feel him inside you?”

“Your sister’s here, watching you,” Ricky told him, glancing back at the Rumor. “Look at her. She thinks you’re shameful.”

The Séance’s eyelids opened slowly, and his head turned as well, until he was peering dazedly at his sister. He furrowed his eyebrows and turned his gaze up and around at all of the men around him, at them all gazing down at him with wide grins and blazing eyes. Ricky could tell he couldn’t understand, why he was seeing his sister there in the room same room with the dirty underbelly of the City and their favorite plaything.

“You’re not hallucinating, she’s here. She wanted proof that her brother really was a fucking cheap slut, so we invited her down.”

“I didn’t want to believe it was true,” the Rumor whispered. “But it is. You’re letting a man you don’t even know fuck you with his dirty hands. He didn’t even wash them before he covered them in fucking _vegetable shortening_ and put them inside you, and you’re just _taking_ it.”

“Tell us what you think of your _adopted_ brother, Number Three,” Ricky asked the Rumor mockingly as he pressed his hands further into the Séance’s body. It was the first movement of Ricky’s arms inside the Séance since he’d come into awareness, and he whined, a high-pitched, desperate noise as his hands grabbed at the leather beneath him, trying weakly to pull himself away as the fists inside him just pressed further.

“I think I’m ashamed to have ever called him a brother.” The Séance opened his clenched eyes and they spun to land on his sister. He looked hurt. “Don't _look_ at me like that, like I've said something wrong. _You're_ the one being fucked by dirty men in a basement. You're covered in filth. You're too used to be worth anything to anyone anymore. You're _disgusting_.”

Ricky clenched his own eyes shut and pushed his laptop away, pulling himself out of his fantasy to tighten both hands around his cock and finish with a grunt, mind lingering on the thought of the Séance hearing his sister talk about him like that, seeing her look at him like that. Ricky held onto that thought, breathing deeply, soaking in the feeling of a good orgasm. From the muffled speakers of his laptop, which had landed somewhere around his feet, he could hear Jack’s voice say _“Fuck, I don’t give a fuck anymore. You think you could get a whole arm inside her?”_

It was an overcast Tuesday morning, some months after that, when one of the Police Academy recruits entered Ricky's office with a hefty Manila folder in hand and a determined expression on his face. Ricky recognized the recruit immediately; he'd been eyeing him for some time, especially since Anything Ghost had been leaked to the public, waiting for the first sign that the young man was about to break.

"Recruit Hargreeves. Can I ask what you're doing in my office without an appointment?"

"I needed to talk to you, Captain."

"Yes, I'd assumed as much. I didn't think you were in here to borrow my stapler." He raised his eyebrows, urging Hargreeves to continue.

The kid swallowed tersely, one hand gripping the folder tightly, the other drumming it with his fingers.

"I've compiled information to help on a case."

At this, Ricky glanced up from the paperwork he was pretending to read, eyebrows raised.

"I'm sure our own admin and detectives can compile their own information. I doubt, as a recruit, you've been able to gather anything they don't already have on file."

Recruit Hargreeves shook his head stiffly. "No, Captain, I don't think a case has been opened yet. I asked."

The kid was young. His face was clean-shaven, hair close cropped, cheeks still soft with lingering adolescence in a way his brother the Séance's weren't, having long ago been hollowed by the streets and the drugs.

Ricky sighed and steepled his fingers, peering at Hargreeves over his fingertips in a way he knew made the new recruits feel unsteady.

"Let me get this straight. On no one's orders - or permission - you've used police time to gather information no one asked for, for a case that doesn't exist?"

"No, Sir - Captain. No, Captain, I've done this on my own time. But there should be a case. I want to open a case."

"This is extremely unorthodox. We don't do cases by request, boy." He enjoyed seeing the young man flinch at the dismissive moniker. "If a case exists, the police will work on it; we don't need misguided recruits inventing crimes where there aren't any. That won't win you any points around here."

"But there has been a crime!" proclaimed Hargreeves, face ruddying, voice desperate. "Please, Captain, let me present the case! I've done so much work, I know I'm not a cop yet but I know this will help."

If it were any other recruit, Ricky would shake his head and order them out of his office. But Ricky knew what Hargreeves was here for, and he wanted to hear him out. He could use a good laugh.

Ricky pretended to ponder for a moment, expression unreadable, before letting out a sigh and beaconing the kid forward. "Alright. I'll give you a few minutes. But make it quick."

Hargreeves looked relieved and hurried forward, setting the folder down on Ricky's desk on top of his paperwork, shoulders tensing.

"So, what is this case about?" Ricky asked, although he already knew. Hargreeves swallowed and licked his lips and opened his mouth, but seemed unable to vocalize, and so he just wordlessly opened the folder.

The folder was thick, and inside were stacks of hundreds of color-printed pages. Ricky reached out and flipped through them silently. Some of them were screenshots from Anything Ghost threads – the kid must have gotten to it before it was taken down, somehow – the image or video-still printed in waxy color at the top and strings of comments beneath. Some of them were taken from other websites, where images and videos had started to circulate after the site was leaked; Reddit, Pornhub, and others. The papers were all carefully sectioned with paperclips, organized by post with color-coded arrows and sticky-note annotations pointing to certain comments that might indicate a location or other identifier. The images that showed the faces of anyone other than the Séance were diligently compiled, faces blown up and brought into as much focus as possible, annotations noting eye color, hair color, build, and estimated weight and height - as much could be estimated by comparing their bodies to the Séance's. Some images didn't show anyone else's face, but Hargreeves had combed through the images and used his sticky arrows to point out unique accessories and tattoos.

Ricky allowed the young recruit to dwell in the uncomfortable silence as he flipped through the pages, allowed the boy to watch as Ricky’s eyes raked across images of his brother being defiled, carefully not belying any emotion as he felt heat swelling in his gut and his cock stiffening in his pants. He imagined Hargreeves poring over these pornographic images, picking out every minute detail of his brother's sexual escapades for anything he could latch onto that might bring whatever he thought was justice onto whoever had soiled the Séance. Ricky knew that this man was different than his sister, that Hargreeves wasn’t swimming with disgust at the thought of his brother’s body being ruined at the hands of others - not disgust at the Séance, at least. But he felt he could get an entertaining reaction from the young man all the same. Despair was nearly as delicious as disgust.

He continued to allow the silence to reign until he was good and hard underneath his desk. Then, he set the papers down and smoothed his hand over the top page, swallowed a laugh, and said to Hargreeves, "I don't understand, Recruit. What case do you think you have?"

Hargreeves stared at him, mouth open in disbelief. "The website, Captain? You've heard of it, haven't you? I, I went through what I could find on it before it was taken down. I tracked other things down on other sites. There's enough information in some of the comments to find witnesses for some of the events, and if we put out an APB on the ones who's faces are shown, I think w-we can find a lot of them."

"Find them for what? To testify? No offense, Recruit Hargreeves, but that's a lot of time and resources to be used just to convict one addict prostitute."

Ricky allowed his words to sink in, taking a great deal of pleasure by the expressions that flitted across the young man's face: first confusion, then uncertainty, then horror.

"No. No, that's not what I meant! To convict... to convict _them_. The people... all those people who did those _things_ t-t-to..." the young man cut himself off, face twitching, looking still appalled.

Ricky sighed and feigned sympathy as he smiled gently at the young recruit.

“Listen. Your full name is Number Two Hargreeves, correct?”

Hargreeves grimaced. “Diego. I had it legally changed, Captain. It says Diego on my file.”

Ignoring Hargreeves, Ricky continued. “Listen, Recruit. I understand that you have a… personal interest in this, ah, situation. But I think it’s made you blind to the facts of the matter.”

The young man’s hands clenched into fists at his side, and Ricky could see the muscles tensing at his temple. “W-what facts?” he asked through gritted teeth.

“Have you been watching the news at all? Reading any of these articles? Have you noticed anything?” The kid said nothing, as though admitting that he’d watched reporters discuss his brother’s whorish behavior would be shameful, which Ricky thought was funny given that he’d clearly spent hours examining the photographic evidence. “In all of the clips they’ve showed, the photos they’ve shared, have you never stopped to notice that everyone’s faces have been blurred out, except for his?”

Hargreeves, scowling, though looking deeply sad – like a toddler, frustrated at being unable to control his tears – glanced away at the wall, at the ground, and then back at the folder. “So?”

“So, you don’t blur the faces of criminals, Recruit. The news media doesn’t think these people are criminals, Hargreeves. The general public doesn’t think these people are criminals.”

“It d-d-duh…” Hargreeves stopped to take a deep breath and steeled himself, speaking very deliberately and trying to control the contortions of his mouth as he repressed his stutter. “It d- _doesn’t_ _matter_ what anyone thinks, what matters is there’s been a crime. Criminals don’t get sent to jail by the court of public opinion, they get sentenced by a p-puh-prosecutor, a judge, a jury…”

“Exactly. A jury. And what do you think a jury is going to decide if you bring this ‘case’ to trial?”

Before Hargreeves could respond, Ricky reached forward and rifled through the immaculately organized pages. He pulled out a photograph of the Séance licking tabs of acid off someone else’s ass while he was being fucked from behind.

“You think the jury will see this and think, _Oh yeah, that’s a victim I want justice for?”_ Hargreeves flinched, but before he could say anything, Ricky reached for the pages again, rifling through them, exposing image after image of the Séance in various states of debauchery, enjoying the trembling that was slowly ramping up in Hargreeves’ lower lip. Ricky began to feel confident, heedless, wanting to see Hargreeves break down, wanting to see the way the man had undoubtedly cried while he looked through the pictures of his brother. Boldly, humorously, he pulled out a photo of the Séance, clearly unconscious, while a man that Ricky didn’t recognize fucked him. One arm was forcing the Séance’s limp leg up so his knee was pressed against his chest. “Do you think any jury would look at this and see a victim who was taken against his will?” he asked, tone serious and imploring, as though the young man captured in the photo wasn’t quite obviously past the point of having any will at all.

Hargreeves’ expression changed when he saw that photo, heard Ricky’s words. He looked confused, as though he couldn’t believe that Ricky had said what he said, couldn't trust his ears. “And you have to remember,” continued Ricky, fondly smoothing his hands over a new photo, tracing the curving lines of the Séance’s arching back. “That this is national news. Everyone’s read the papers, everyone’s let their curiosity get the best of them. You think half the jurors won’t have tugged one out to a washed-up celebrity junkie getting what he asked for? You think they’ll wanna convict these men for any wrongdoing, and imply they themselves should feel guilty for jacking off to this every night?” In this photo, the Séance is clearly crying out in pain, naked and tied in a system of intricately knotted ropes, the man behind him holding a heavy, braided whip. One of Garreth’s.

Hargreeves was frozen. His expression was stiff. His eyes were fixated on the image in front of him, the one Ricky was gently running his fingers over. Carefully, curiously, eagerly, Ricky pulled one final paper out from the stack. It was one of those that contained multiple image stills from a video, margins carefully noting whatever timestamps Hargreeves had found important. Ricky recognized what video it was from instantly; it wasn’t Ricky’s favorite video, but it was a memorable one, one that he and Jimmy had laughed over a couple times while they were drunk. It was made for a weekly competition for “Best Umbrella Academy-themed porno” and had been the voters’ favorite.

In the video, the Séance is wasted on something that isn’t working out very well for him. His attention is poor, he seems to be in a persistent state of confusion, dazed by the events occurring around him. Every few minutes he blinks and seems to not know where his is. Then, he notices the cock pistoning in and out of his thoroughly-used hole, notices the black ski mask being worn by the man the cock belongs to, and shakes his head weakly. “Where am I?” His voice is soft and judders with the force of the masked man’s thrusts.

“We’ve kidnapped you from the Academy, Number Four,” says the man in question, voice theatrically lowered and gravelly. “Your siblings are on their way to rescue you, but they’re going to be in for a nasty surprise when they discover their slutty brother is screwing the enemy.” He’s not the best actor, and he sounds very much like he’s reading from a script, but he doesn’t need to be Meryl Streep to fool the Séance when the young man in this altered state of mind.

“But I didn’t… I’m not…” the Séance hiccoughs and puts his hand up against the man’s chest, pushing against him weakly. “But I don’t want to.”

There’s the sound of a door slamming open, and the amateur director swings the camera around to reveal three people wearing domino masks and poor facsimiles of the Umbrella Academy uniform. They’re clearly meant to be Spaceboy, the Kraken and the Rumor, though they’re much older than they would have been back before the UA disbanded, and the woman they got to play the Rumor isn’t even black; she’s just very tan and has overdone it on lip fillers.

“Stop!” says the woman playing the Rumor, holding up one hand straight out in front of her with the other on her cocked hip, unnaturally firm breasts nearly bursting from the low neckline of her schoolgirl uniform (a feature that was sadly lacking from the real Rumor’s outfit). “We got the ransom note and we’re here to save our sweet brother, Number Four. Where is he?”

“You’re looking at him, sweetheart,” says one of the masked actors standing around where the Séance lies naked in the grasp of the man who is still fucking him. The Séance is looking wide-eyed between the men and the actors playing his siblings. “Like what you see?”

The masked man climaxes with a shout, finishing inside of the Séance. He pulls out, removes his full condom, and throws it to the side where there is a pile of others; the Séance has clearly already been fucked by several of the other men.

The Rumor impersonator puts her hand theatrically over her mouth in faux-shock. “Number Four? What are you doing?”

“I knew you were a slut, but I didn’t think you’d stoop so low as to seduce the Bad Guys,” says the Spaceboy impersonator, who is quite a bit more robotic than the other actors on the set.

The Séance looks like he’s been slapped. “No,” he says, brokenly, disoriented; “No, I didn’t… not on purpose…”

“You’re trying to tell them that you _accidentally_ fell ass-first onto our dicks?” improvises the man who has taken the other guy’s spot. He’s stroking his cock and stuffs three fingers without warning into the Séance’s used hole, causing the Séance to flinch back. The confused slut is looking towards the actors dressing up as his siblings, hands scrabbling for purchase along the bed he’s laid out on. “Like they’re gonna buy that.”

“No,” the Séance slurs, shaking his head. “I dun… I don’ want…”

“How can they believe you when you’re so hard for us?” the man asks, and with some degree of surprise and some degree of horror, the Séance looks down and sees that he is, in fact, achingly erect, thanks to some of the drugs he’s been given.

“Ew! Number Four! I can’t believe you like being fucked by the enemy!” says the Rumor impersonator, throwing out her arms in an exaggeration of shock and disgust. The Séance adorably lowers his shaking hand to try to hide his erection from the people he thinks are his siblings, face coloring with shame.

“You better believe it,” grunts the new masked man as he finally thrusts his cock into the Séance’s trembling body, forcing a hurt little noise from the incapacitated young man. “He’s a born slut, he just lives and breathes to get fucked. He’ll take _anything_.”

The Kraken impersonator, who has clearly been playing at stoic, silently walks over to the bed where the Séance is still weakly trying to hide his erection, huffing a whimpered exhale at every thrust from the masked man leaning over him. The Séance watches him coming, eyes damp, and reaches a limp hand imploringly towards who he thinks is his brother. “Please… help, please…” his voice seems to fail him, but his lips are still moving, and anyone who is an Umbrella Academy superfan will recognize them forming the name _Diego_.

“If you’ll take anything, what about this?” the Kraken impersonator says, tugging his fat, hard cock out of the front of his uniform shorts, and the expression on the Séance’s face at those words is nothing short of shattered.

After that point, the Kraken impersonator feeds the Séance his cock. The Rumor impersonator sits on the Séance’s face and loudly shames him for his sluttiness after the too-buff, too-tall version of the Kraken finishes down the Séance’s throat, with a couple of the pretend-villains continuing to fuck the Séance and joining in with the Rumor's humiliating comments. The video ends with the Spaceboy impersonator flipping the Séance over onto his stomach and aggressively fucking him while holding his face into the sheets.

Ricky allowed himself a small grin as he glanced over the video stills, at the annotations where Hargreeves’ handwriting was a mite shakier than on other pages. Suddenly, Ricky didn’t feel the need to stay subtle; he didn’t care what Hargreeves told anyone else. Ricky was a well-respected commanding officer and Hargreeves was a hot-headed ex-child star; he knew who were people going to listen to.

“This was a great video, wasn’t it?” he asked, tapping his fingers on the still where a tattoo is circled on the calf of the man impersonating Number Two. “I bet you stroked out a good one, imaging it was _your_ cock little Number Four was choking on instead of some cosplayer’s?”

Ricky was actually surprised when Hargreeves punched him. He hadn’t thought the kid would have it in him; he was expecting stammering and tears, not a busted lip and a cracked molar.

Hargreeves was booted from the police academy, and then, because he was feeling vengeful, the next time Ricky saw the Séance at a party he arrested the young man for solicitation and possession. He sent the conviction notice to Hargreeves’ address in a plain Manila folder, accompanied only by a sticky note on which he’d drawn a smiley-face in black ink.

“What are you doing?” the Séance had asked, wry confusion twisting his mouth as though he expected it all to be a joke. He had recognized Ricky; he knew what Ricky’s fingers felt like in his mouth and what his cock felt like in his ass and he’d seemed completely unable to process the handcuffs that were forcing his scrawny wrists behind his back.

“I have some acquaintances in prison I owe a debt to,” Ricky had murmured lowly into the Séance’s ear, “And you’re going to help me pay it off. Don’t worry, you’ll be well compensated – your usual rate.”

Rodney, Ricky's acquaintance, was a criminal kingpin whose fingers were in a great many pies, though he never left fingerprints. He had been given ninety days for animal cruelty, the only thing they could pin him on, and with the Séance at his disposal he’d be able to make back the five thousand Ricky owed easily - plus profit. Normally, Ricky – a keen businessman – would have demanded a share of any profit over the five grand he owed. In this case, however, he was satisfied with just the knowledge that Number Two Hargreeves was probably cry-wanking to the torturous image of his brother being passed around the prison like a slutty, cum-drenched hot potato.

**Author's Note:**

> The show referenced in the first paragraph is How I Met Your Mother, if you didn't know.
> 
> If you enjoyed, please leave a comment telling me what you liked. This is my first kink meme fill, and I'd like to do more in the future if it seems like I'm any good at it.
> 
> Sometimes, you have to write the kink you want to see in the world.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
